In the reviews and interviews surrounding Aviary, a coherent narrative has taken shape: the political climate since 2016 has driven Julia Holter to near-madness, resulting in a dense, thrilling, perplexing 90-minute album interlaced with themes ranging from birds to memory to medieval manuscript culture to the necessity of empathy to the nature and purpose of art. These themes aren’t as disparate as they appear, and they in fact relate to one another, moebius-like, such that you end up back where you began by considering each one in turn.

As Holter points out, birds have been associated with memory since at least the Middle Ages, when monks and scribes would copy and re-copy texts like Hugh of Fouilloy’s De Avibus, a collection of illustrated morality tales about birds produced in the 12th and 13th centuries (such a book was called an aviary). Through the process of re-copying, the monks would focus intently on the text, word by word, patiently immersing themselves in its aesthetic world. However, differences would inevitably emerge, as they would misread and make mistakes. The process is emblematic of Holter’s own artistic practice, as she collects, translates, and transcribes literary texts into her lyrics and compositions, changing them to suit her own ends. This is the purpose of art, this caring for the past and its people enough to transfer their work into our own era, even if imperfectly, and thus into the future (if, indeed, there is a future).

Holter’s seemingly academic interest in the distant past is not obscurantism, but rather a radical act of personal politics. Transferring texts from person to person, century to century, assumes a continuity and therefore a mutual understanding between people from wildly different eras. Recognizing something not only valuable but urgently relevant in texts from Dante, Pushkin, Sappho, and the 12th-century troubadour Bernart de Ventadorn (all adapted for tracks on Aviary) demonstrates an empathy that Holter rightly fears is missing in today’s political climate. If we can recognize ourselves in those long dead, perhaps we could recognize ourselves in those still living. Without this empathy undergirding our discourse, it devolves into the shrieking of birds.

Aviary hearkens back to Holter’s earliest records, Tragedy and Ekstasis, in its adaptation of classic texts and in its compositional process. However, it represents an astounding step forward in its scope and ambition. The claustrophobia of Loud City Song and the self-imposed aesthetic limitations of Have You in My Wilderness have given way to wide-screen, exploratory, celebratory triumph. The album’s standout tracks are those propulsive numbers that give the listener a way to orient themselves within its sprawl (“Whether,” “I Shall Love 2,” “Les Jeux to You”). Even the most challenging songs, though, unveil immersive worlds upon multiple listens (“Chiatius,” “Every Day Is an Emergency,” “Colligere”). Although it initially seems like Aviary could benefit from trimming a few songs, choosing those songs would be an insurmountable task. Together, its 15 tracks form an intimidating but coherent whole that serves as Holter’s most sophisticated and engaging release to date. For a composer of Holter’s rapidly increasing stature, that is high praise indeed.

Eureka!

Some releases are so incredible we just can’t help but exclaim EUREKA! While many of our picks here defy categorization and explore the constructed boundaries between ‘music’ and ‘noise,’ others complement, continue, or rupture traditions that provide new forms and ways of listening. Not all of our favorites will be listed here, but we think each EUREKA! album is worthy of careful consideration. This section is a work-in-progress, so expect its definition to be in perpetual flux.